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We never had a real one. Never had a what are we going to do? I’m actually going to miss you talk. Sure, we said things, but I knew he just wanted to get on with the rest of his life, and I just wanted to get out unscathed.

So between Facebook stalking Refuses and ignoring his texts, we would email once every month or so about stupid bands we both liked and anything to get a hit of each other during the workday. He was my high on the days that we talked, and my reason for being down on the days we didn’t. We kept it clean and short, and I showed no signs of remorse, no signs of giving in.

He caved first. Said that it was “obvious I had moved on and that he should too,” said that he wished he could talk to the me he remembered- the cute, sweet girlfriend me.

That last email infuriated me. He wanted me to act sweet and charming and say that I missed him? He didn’t want to date me, but wanted me to act like it? My blood was boiling.

I texted him to find out if he was okay. He said no, said that he hated breaking up and that he missed me. Said he was having a hard time. I asked if he wanted to talk, and told him I would call him later.

I postponed the conversation with a few glasses of wine- wine to kill the nerves that had been building for three months; wine to dull the anger.